Unrequited
by sylvanius
Summary: It's after the immortals war and Daine has realized her feelings for Numair but has decided it's best not to tell him. This is a moment from her life trying to deal with those feelings.
1. Beltane: Daine

Okay, so this was kind of a writing exercise to get me back into the writing mood after a (sinfully) long absence. The summary gives you the basic idea...not that happy, but that's that I guess. Possibly a one-shot, not sure yet.

Disclaimer: not mine.

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She had watched him all night even though there had been much else to distract her. They had stopped at an inn on their way back to Corus and soon found themselves immersed in the festivities of the Beltane celebration. The entire city, the name of which Daine couldn't recall for the life of her and hardly cared, had been alive with the festivities and passion of the holiday. Children ran through the streets with brightly colored ribbons as their parents looked on smiling. Newlyweds jumped over embers in hopes of children of their own while less reputable couples sought quiet corners. There was dancing and drink and plenty of young men who had asked for her hand in dance, or perhaps for less reputable acts, but she refused each time. Instead, she watched him the entire time.

For the first part of the night he had stayed with her, talking in the atmosphere as they talked and joked quietly among themselves, and even asked her to dance a few times, to which she most certainly agreed. Soon, however, the crowd had separated them and by the time she had spotted him again he had most obviously found something else to occupy his interest. The something in question was blonde, curvy and absolutely gorgeous. She was almost as beautiful as the woman after that, and the one after that. She watched him as he asked the various women to dance, holding them closer than he ever had her. She watched him as they leaned up to whisper seductively in his ear, brushing strands of his black mane out of the way with feather light touches. She watched as he leaned down to reply to the third woman, pausing briefly after the murmur to softly run his lips against the woman's earlobe, so subtlety that unless you were watching as Daine was, you would never see it. At this point she very nearly got up and strode over to cut in, but stopped herself. She could never do something like that. This was Numair she was watching, Numair she was jealously thinking of. Numair her teacher, her friend, nothing more and she was never to be more than that.

Numair would laugh at the mere thought of taking her as a lover just as he had so often laughed off the accusations that they were indeed having an affair. Must the thought be so ridiculous to him? She had clenched her hands into fists as she watched them stride out of the square and off into the dark. Every other time she had seen this happen, which was a number not so small, she could always tell herself that he was merely walking them home and that it was entirely innocent, this time however it was impossible to invite the delusions that so often brought her comfort. Every other time they had not been in hotel rooms separated by a thin and crumbling wall, every other time their headboards had not both been against that same wall.

Now as she sat leaning against her headboard intently listening to, yet trying to block out, the sounds from the other room. The soft thump of the headboard against the wall and the muffled sighs and moans she imagined herself in that woman's position, wishing with all her heart for it to be true. She closed her eyes and imagined that is was her beneath him at this moment, her who caused him to shudder and lose control in a way that she would never see him do, her name that was whispered from his lips in a half muttered avowal of desire. Not hers, not, what was he saying? Cecily, so that was the woman, not Cecily, never her. She knew however, that it would always be Cecily, maybe not the woman in question, but someone just like her. It would always be a mature, beautiful, charming woman. It would never be Daine, not scrawny, wild, childish Daine. Not that she was childish anymore, but he would always fail to see that. To him, she must still be the thirteen-year-old girl who talked like the commoner bastard from the backwater village she was. Not what he wanted at all no matter how much she wished he would see.

She stayed up for most of the night, listening to the sounds from the room next to her, not passing into sleep, sweet nothingness, until the resonances had subsided. Before drifting off she muttered, in a half unconscious state, a simple plea to the goddess on a cold and lonely Beltane to ask for nothing more than a chance to make him see.

She sat at a table in the inn with heavy lidded eyes and a blank expression, moving the food around on her plate idly, as she waited for Numair to make his appearance. Finally he sat down in front of her, groggily ordering a small breakfast from the innkeeper.

"Sorry I'm late, festivities must have gotten to me." He smiled sheepishly, taking a roll of her plate and buttering it. "Luckily we don't have to be anywhere on a deadline, we can take all the time we need. Anyway, have fun last night magelet?"

She stared ahead, not at him but off into space, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to answer.

"Daine?" He asked again softly, trying to get her attention. She closed her eyes briefly and imagined that that soft invocation of her name had been for some other and far more clandestine reason. A wave of nausea rolled over her as she remembered that it was a wish far too impossible for her to ever see come true and silently cursed herself for doing this to herself. She opened her eyes and looked into his and for a moment felt herself drowning again, being pulled into him like so many times before but then she saw the concern. He was looking at her with the same brand of worry he always did when he thought something was amiss, and unless she alleviated his fear he would not rest. She then put on her best smile and nodded.

"Yes, yes I did. It was a good night."

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So at the moment I am considering adding another chapter or two. I have another sequence in mind involving Daine that I may add and I am also toying with the idea of putting in Numair's side to this event and the other one if I do it. Depends if I decide it's worth continuing.

Aslo..when it comes to Modern, for any of you who have read it, don't worry! I havn't abandoned it. Very unfortunately this is the first time I have been able to log into my account for almost a year, something went horribly wrong there so that is why I have been so absent. At the moment I have been going through and revising some of the chapters (I will hopefully get to all of them) to fix the numerous gramatical errors that reside there. It's amazing what you are ok with in your writing when you are 13 (Which is what I was when I began that fic) that by this time in my life are completely unnaceptable. So now that I am back it should only be a short amount of time before I begin updating that!

**also, REVIEW! It makes the fanfiction world go 'round...**


	2. Beltane: Numair

**Okay, So I have decided to continue this for a bit. This chapter is Numair's side of Beltane. I am not too sure of the rating, I feel like that the moment I am kind of on the line of heavy T and very mild M, I think it's ok for this chapter but for the next couple I have in mind it is very possibly I may have to move the rating up. Again, it's all very hypothetical right now. I might just leave it here.**

**Disclaimer: not mine**

**enjoy!**

He wished he had gotten to dance with her one more time

He wished he had gotten to dance with her one more time. In truth he wished for much more than that, but at the moment it would have contented him. He wished he could have danced with her like he did the women later in the night, holding her closer than would have been acceptable for their relationship. He wished he could have felt her body against his like he had those women, heard her whisper into his ear as they had, her lips lightly brushing against his.

There had been moments during the night that had actually given him hope, how foolish he was. She had stayed with him for quite a while, though there had been much else to do, and it have given him hope that maybe, just maybe, there actually was _hope._ The fact that she had stayed and talked with him and joked, almost flirtingly he had thought at a point, and danced with him as many times as she did despite there being numerous other men who had attempted to cut in had made him think there was more. How foolish.

After they had been separated he wasted no time in finding her, but upon finding her wished he hadn't at all. One of the numerous other men, younger and more _appropriate_ men, had wasted no time in asking for her hand in a dance, he hoped that was what he was asking anyway. He overcame his flash of protective fury that was telling him to stride over to them and push the younger man away and turned around quickly, not even staying to see if she accepted. He needed something that would make him stop thinking about her, a distraction.

Soon he found himself talking, and dancing, with a woman. She was beautiful and she had pressed her body against his as they swirled to the music and leaned up, in a way that made it very easy to see down the low cut of her dress, to whisper seductively in his ear. As he leaned down to listen to her his cheek brushed against the soft curls of her hair and he took a moment to look at it a bit more. She wasn't a pure blonde, more a dirty blonde and in the firelight at times it even looked more brown than blonde. The realization made him excuse himself from the dance and disappear into the crowd, he couldn't be thinking of Daine, not now, not while another woman was pressed against him and saying things Daine would never say to him. He scanned the crowd quickly and found her being propositioned by yet another man. She may never say those things to him, but would she say them to that man? He clenched his fists at the thought and quickly turned around again, not wanting to see the outcome.

The second woman he was with that night had seemed better, until her realized her eyes which were blue, not Daine's blue, they lacked the depth and sheer beauty, but blue enough. The third woman however was perfect. She had long straight hair that was so blonde it was almost white, and eyes of a dark brown. Everything about her was the antithesis of Daine. When this one leaned up to whisper in his ear he smiled slightly, and upon seeing Daine out of the corner of his eye in a discussion with yet another man, leaned down to return the favour and quickly found himself and the woman leaving the celebration for a much more appropriate setting.

For the remainder of the night he tried not to think of the girl in the room next to his as he was with the woman beneath him but errant thoughts and sinful fantasies continued to play through his mind. At times the thought of how sordid the entire situation was almost made him laugh, almost. He wondered if Daine was in a similar situation, if she had, blinded by Beltane passion, stumbled back to her inn room, or his, and was now beneath someone else as she closed her eyes and immersed herself in the pleasure as the woman beneath him was. She was certainly old enough now, and she had been courted in the past. He had however, never gotten up the courage to ask her how far it had gone. In truth, he was terrified to know. If she was now, if she was with one of those men he had seen earlier, she had better mean more to them than this woman did to him. If he ever found out that she had been used like this, he would hunt them down and no force on the earth or in the very realms of the gods themselves could stop him.

Perhaps, she wasn't with someone at all. It was possible, gods how he hoped so, that she was merely on the other side of the wall in front of him, fast asleep. He raised one hand, shifting his weight entirely to his other elbow, and pressed his palm to the cool wall, feeling the cracks in the plaster, and wondered if she was really less than a foot from him at the moment. He tried to banish the thoughts from his mind as he felt the woman's, Cecily he remembered now, nails rake down his back as the arched her back towards him more. In a flash images of Daine flew through his mind. Their bodies pressed together and moving as one, Daine's cool lips against his skin, her hands sliding down his back, her eyes looking up at him as he leaned down to kiss her neck and whispered her name. He stopped immediately, he wouldn't do this, he wouldn't do this to Daine. He couldn't allow himself to think about Daine in this way while he was with another woman. It was disrespectful and despicable to degrade her to such a point where she was a plaything in his mind. She was better than that, he wouldn't allow himself to think about her in this way by night in the arms of another and treat her like nothing was different in the morning. It would never be her name, it would never be her here with him, no matter how much he wished it, and he had to accept that it would never be Daine. He leaned down and sighed into the woman's ear.

"Cecily…"

The woman had been gone by the time he woke up, not leaving so much as a note. After getting dressed and packing his bag he headed to Daine's room to pick her up before they got breakfast. After receiving no answer, he opened the door to see her bags there but no other sign of life. In fact, the bed was fully made. His fist clenched around the doorknob realizing that she had not, in fact, spent the night there.

Sitting across from Daine he took in her appearance. She looked tired, as if she had slept as little as he had and he again clenched his fists under the table and bit his tongue against asking who the lucky bastard was. Instead he just greeted her as he would any other day.

"Sorry I'm late; festivities must have gotten to me." He tried to smile, hoping his jealousy wouldn't shine through. "Luckily we don't have to be anywhere on a deadline, we can take all the time we need. Anyway, have fun last night magelet?" He hoped the question he really wanted to ask wasn't obvious. She merely looked past him, across the inn, and turning briefly he saw that right behind him the second man he had seen asking Daine to dance the previous night was leaning against the wall. He swallowed and turned back to her quickly so that she would not notice.

"Daine?" He asked softly, hoping that nothing had happened to harm her. She closed her eyes briefly then shook her head as if trying to wake herself up more before turning to him with one of her absolutely dazzling smiles, on that he couldn't help but returning although his insides churned when she responded.

"Yes, yes I did. It was a good night."

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**Ok so tell me what you think, review or I deffinately won't update! lot's of reviews people!**


	3. Midwinter: Daine

Right so, yes, Daine is a bit out of character, but then again this whole story is a bit extreme, and yes, her dress isn't even rermotely appropriate for the time...but it works better this way, anyway, enjoy!:)

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She remembered how she had simply stopped and stared, fair rudely, the first time she saw him. She had listened absently as Numair had explained that he was a mage from Tyra who had come to study under Numair for a while and in that time would assist him with research. None of that meant anything to her; all she knew was that he looked remarkably like Numair. Not as tall, but he wad the same black hair, almost the exact same length even, and same tan skin and dark eyes, even if they held nothing to Numairs in depth. He had flashed her a smile and she was reminded of Numair, they even moved similarly. She had reached out slowly and slid her hand into his in a firm shake not taking her eyes off of him as he told her his name, Karne, in truth she cared less about his name and more about the name of who he so looked like, a fact she still felt ashamed of. After helping Karne move into Numair's study, where he would have his own desk, Numair had left to attend to some business and Karne had begun asking her about her magic. She answered automatically, not paying attention to a word he was saying, and as the conversation went on she felt herself moving closer and closer to this man she had barely met. He never rebuffed her advances, as bold as she was being, and when she shifted so that their legs were pressed against one another he moved his hand to lightly brush against hers. At that moment Numair had come back into the room, barely looking in her direction and seemingly oblivious to what he had walked into, and Diane had stood up quickly, making a hurried excuse, and fled from the room. She had walked back to her room, breathing heavy and fists clenched, ashamed of her actions and allowing herself to be controlled by her weakness. If only she had known that was only the beginning.

She saw him almost every day, for he was with Numair most times she went to see him, and never once made an advancement reminiscent of that first day. That was always her, when Numair left the room, she would move closer or let her hand brush against his accidently, always getting closer and closer each time before she pulled herself back sharply and made an excuse to leave. She would not lower herself to that level, especially not with someone who had turned out to be as nice as Karne was. In the short time he had been present he had turned out to be a wonderful person, and respectful considering her actions, though in personality he resembled Numair little. His looks and movements may have been similar to her teachers but the way he talked, the sound of his voice, the way he acted were all very different yet admirable in their own way. He did not deserve to be used like that.

The first time had been at Midwinter, the night of the ball. She was standing near the wall in a red silk strapless dress of the newest style, one Numair had been vehemently against her wearing at all as it was racier than the current trends, that hugged her every curve, flowed softly down her legs, and left the entirety of her back exposed. She smiled ironically at the fact that it was Numair she had been hoping to captivate and Numair who had merely seen it said nothing more than that she should go change. It was that night she had broken down and threw away everything that had kept her from committing such a sordid sin. Numair had been surrounded by his usual following of admirers and she was left standing on the edge of the ballroom staring in contempt and agony as she poured herself one drink after another and wondered which one would share his bed that night. Karne had come up to ask for a dance and she had instead led him into the gardens, a dark corner perfect for trysts where she could only see the outline of his features, and kissed him with all the passion that belonged to the man inside. He had returned the kiss equally, and pressed her against the cold stone wall of the palace. His hand ran up her thigh, moving against the feather light fabric and making her shudder. She had whispered into his ear in a husky and barely audible whisper requesting that they return to one of their chambers. In fact, they never even made it that far.

The academic wing of the palace was much closer, and they only managed to make it to Numair's study. In fact, they only managed to make it to Numair's desk. In their current states of mind they were much too consumed in each other to make it an extra ten feet to the other. Daine felt her self pressed against the desk as he kissed down her neck, glad that the sole candle in the room was lit so that it cast shadows in a way that made Karne look just that much more like the man she so desperately wished were there instead. He lifted her onto the desk as she wrapped her legs around his waist and she placed her hand behind her to meet fabric instead of wood. She glanced down to realize that Numair had left his coat draped over his desk and she clenched her hand, gathering the fabric in it as Karne slid her skirt up to the top of her thighs and kissed her passionately. He pulled away and looked her straight in the eyes, beginning to speak something, and never before had it been so obvious who he was not. Diane placed her finger against his lips and shushed him quietly before pushing his head down to kiss her neck. He complied and as they began to move together she slowly leaned back, looking down only to see black hair so much like Numair's, to inhale the scent of his jacket.

Maybe if that had been the only time, it would have been forgivable, but it had been months now. Months of secret meetings and quiet intervals where they would meet and carry on this silent affair and a part of her hated herself for it. The way she used him, the way she _trained_ him, that's why it was always quiet, she couldn't stand to hear his voice during, it was just all wrong. It was the same reason she never looked him in the eye and preferred the illusion of Numair rather than the reality of the man in her arms. She never knew whether Karne figured it out or not, he seemed content with the arrangement though he often showed signs of wanting a relationship based on more than desire. She humoured him occasionally, allowing him to take her into the city for days out together, but she always made sure they went placed where no one would recognize them. In truth, she really did enjoy his company; it just wasn't the company she truly wanted. Months in she almost wished at times that Numair would realize what was happening. He had been so blind, where as once he would have been overly watchful, that he hadn't even noticed despite al the signs right in front of his nose. She wanted him to be protective, she wanted him to care. She wanted more than _this._

Sighing Daine rolled over to reach down and pick up her clothes. Karne was already fast asleep and she slid on her breeches and breastband before beginning to search for her shirt. Finding it she leaned against the window sill as she turned it right side out. Karne shifted and opened his eyes to look at her, sighing.

"Do you really need to leave?" He asked quietly and she slowed her actions. Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad to try to give herself to him? She glanced out the window and stopped as she spotted a familiar figure below.

"Yes, I really do."

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She walked down the pathway, mindful of her dishevelled appearance, hoping the night would conceal it.

"A little late for experiments isn't it master mage?" She asked him grinning. He looked up at her, startled, and it was then she saw that he had a hollow look to him as if he had been through a great deal.

"Numair! Are you alright?" He stood up and she reached over to run her hand down his face as if hoping to heal him with a motion as simple as that. He placed his hand over hers and pulled it away form his face slightly.

"Yes magelet, I am fine. It has simply been a long day." He kissed her hand softly, lingering, before letting it go. "And why are you out here at such an hour, may I ask?"

She paused, looking at him searchingly before biting her lip and responding.

"Just needed some air I guess. I couldn't sleep

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Review!!


	4. Midwinter: Numair

**Another update! They seem to slowly be getting longer and longer each chapter...anyway, I really have been meaning to get back to modern but it seems my inspiration is in other places at this time, very much focused on this fic at the moment. I have a bad feeling, however, that my updates may end up even more unreliable than usual this Fall. I have begun the oh so fun process of college applications, aren't you jealous?**

**disclaimer: not mine (If it was I totally wouldn't share Numair:p)**

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He could still remember the look on her face when he introduced them. He remembered standing there awkwardly as she stared at his young assistant and the feeling of jealousy that had instantly overtaken him. The three of them had conversed briefly but Numair grew more and more uncomfortable with each passing moment as Daine never tore her eyes from the other man. When he could take it no longer he made an excuse and excused himself briefly before taking a walk around the palace telling himself he was merely imagining it and that she could not possibly be interested so soon, or at all. Surely the gods could not be so cruel to him. Upon his return however it took all his self control not to throw the young man from his study. He had never seen his magelet like that, never seen her look at someone so _willingly_, never seen her leaned towards a man in that way, not in real life. He has seen it in his mind many times, both in his worst nightmares when he was her with others and in his greatest fantasies with himself but this; this was something altogether different and terrifying. She had jumped back when he entered, confirming her guilt, and stood up quickly making an excuse and fleeing the scene while Karne stood awkwardly and asked Numair if there was anything he needed done. Numair simply stood, staring, the image forever seared into his mind. If only he had known it was only the beginning.

In truth it was hard to hate Karne. He worked well; he was a good man, in other circumstances Numair very likely would have found a good friend. It was, however, not other circumstances. It became impossible not to notice Daines attraction to the young man and, who could blame him, his return of those sentiments. He could not help himself from trying to keep them apart, sending Karne on errands when he knew Daine was going to visit or trying to meet her at different times but it proved to be impossible. Nearly everyday he was forced to see the way they looked at each other. He despised leaving them alone, but sometimes when the looks became too much he would be forced to leave the room and collect himself. This however, always seemed to make it worse. When he would return to them it would always be to see them jump apart and have Daine make a hurried exit leaving him to wonder what had transpired. He hated the way they looked at each other, what it meant. What he hated more was that others noticed, it meant it couldn't be his imagination. Alanna had mentioned it to him once, asking him if he has noticed. He had stiffened and answered gruffly, only staying long enough to hear her make a strange comment about how much Karne resembled him before telling her not to be ridiculous and stalking off.

Of all the images of the two of them that would remain with him, none compared to that of midwinter. The memories of her in that red dress, that cursed red dress, pushed up around her thighs as she arched back onto _his_ desk would stay with him for eternity. He remembered the first time he had seen her that night, dressed to torture him more sweetly than he thought possible, as she spun around for him and smiled at him radiantly. He could not take his eyes off of her, off of the sheer perfection that stood before him. He remembered the only thing he could think of to say was that she should go change at that very moment; he wanted that perfection to be for him and him alone, he wanted no other man to see her that way. He wanted no other man to entertain fantasies of her that night. Something had flickered across her face, annoyance perhaps, he couldn't tell. She had quickly hid it and said something about him being a stick in the mud before dragging him off to the ball.

That night he had made every attempt possible to get his mind off of her. He embraced the attentions of the court women and allowed himself to be drawn into conversation after conversation. He refused to look at Daine; he feared that if he did he would not be able to stop himself from doing something very rash that night. He winced every time he saw a flash of red from the corner of his eye and would turn away quickly so as not to be tempted further. His resolve, however, broke at the worst time. He had searched for her, and found her, just in time to see her leading his young assistant into the gardens. He swallowed, turning to the woman at his side, and tried to distract himself for the thousandth time that night.

His efforts were in vain, no matter how hard he tried he could not suppress the feeling of sickness that had come over him and ended up excusing himself from the ball altogether. He had walked out into the gardens, more distressed not to find them there than if he had. He had decided that taking a walk would be the best possible thing for him, fresh air a chance to breathe when he felt so suffocated, and, shivering in the cold air, turned towards the academic wing to retrieve his coat. He had arrived at his study and, due to his fatigue, had leaned against the door and opened it slowly. It was then he wished that he was anywhere else in the world.

Horrified and captivated he watched, through the narrowly opened door, as Daine, her legs wrapped around Karne's as his hands ran up and down the smooth skin, leaned back on _his_ desk, his _coat_, and closed her eyes in ecstasy. In the dim candlelight he watched as the light danced against her skin and her hands grip at the fabric beneath her when Karne leaned down to kiss the hollow of her throat. It was then, of all the times it could have been, that Numair saw what Alanna had meant by resemblance. If anyone else had come by to witness this they would have surely thought it to be Numair, not his assistant. He stood there longer than he should have, far longer, captivated and heartbroken by the image before him. Not the image of Karne and Daine, but the image of himself and Daine. So clear in front of him, taunting him, what past sins had he committed to deserve this? He had backed away numbly and closed the door silently before walking around the corner and leaning against the wall, sliding to the floor. He sat there for what could have been years, staring, trying to erase the images in his mind. A while after he had heard the lovers leave he had entered his study and sat at his desk, in the early morning light the candle was beginning to sputter and he simply sat there. He reached out, taking his coat in his hands, it smelled like Daine. It smelled like Daine and _sex_. He could not move, caught in disbelief at what he had witnessed and trapped in the pain of it. Eventually he had risen and returned to his rooms, cloak in hand, but his hands shook and his breath still came unevenly.

He had tried not to let on that he knew. In the months that followed he had done everything possible to hide that he knew of their relationship. He didn't want to think of their secret meetings or when he saw them out in Corus but he couldn't help but seeing. He could not look away though it burned his eyes. She never spoke of it and he wanted to desperately to ask her, what was it? Love? Lust? He held himself back, though just barely.

He remembered seeing her through the window of Karne's rooms one evening. He had stayed there, in that garden, most of the night. Jealousy and agony consumed him and he sat next to the pond for hours unable to control his emotions. He had been startled to hear her voice.

"A little late for experiments isn't it master mage?" He turned and looked at her, and for a moment he knew he was unguarded, that if she really looked at him in that moment she would be able to see everything he was. He quickly took control of himself when she reached up and ran a soft hand along his cheek.

"Numair! Are you alright?" He placed his hand over hers, hoping to savour this simple touch for as long as possible, amazed at how everything else just fell away when she was near.

"Yes magelet, I am fine. It has simply been a long day." He turned his head and kissed her hand softly, the only gesture of affection he would ever be able to give her, before releasing it.

"And why are you out here at such an hour, may I ask?" He asked, trying to push her tousled appearance far from his thoughts. She glanced briefly to Karne's window before replying.

"Just needed some air I guess. I couldn't sleep."

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**Review please:)**


	5. Midsummer: Daine

**Ok, so side note on Karne. He isn't around anymore. Obviously. Basically he just left to like...further his education..or whatever, mage in training and whatnot. That obviously happened somewhere between the end of the last section (a number of months after midwinter) and this one (midsummer). Just so you know, there was just really no place to fit it in the story and it deffinatley didn't warrant it's own chapter. As we know, he wasn't exactly an _emotional_ attachment of Daines...anyway, enjoy**

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She had always imagined that their first time would be soft, slow, with whispered declarations and an ease that they would both slip into peacefully. She had imagined soft caresses and lingering kisses that would stretch into the night. There would be no rushing, no desperation, only them. She had so often imagined them together that way, moving as slowly as the tides, with nothing before them but each other and time. How wrong she had been. As she lay in the circle of his arms, the early morning sun just beginning to spill light into the hushed room, she winced as the first wave of her headache rolled over her and the first flashes of memory appeared.

The midsummer festival had been more bright and alive than it had been in years, there was no impending war, no new great threats, for the time being the people of Corus were breathing easily, and it was a time for celebration. She had embraced this as well as anyone and soon found that the less sober she became the further away her troubled seemed. She remembered accepting a few too many drinks, and a few too many dances, and somewhere during the night things had shifted, thought she knew not where. As it neared the midnight hour, the festival still in full force, a young clerk had approached her as she took reprieve in a forlorn corner, catching her breath. He had leaned down as to grant her a midsummer kiss and, in her inebriated state, she had closed her eyes, accepting. However, what she felt next has most certainly not been what she had been expecting. A strong hand has yanked her away from the confused young clerk and pulled her from the hall altogether; confused and irritated, Daine turned to confront her captor, only to see Numair dragging her through the halls, a determined look on his face.

"Numair, what, I , what on earth are you doing?" She said, pulling back and stumbling over her words.

"Taking you back to your rooms." He replied grimly, continuing his pace. She noticed he staggered slightly, as if he had also been drinking his fair share. She had pulled back harder, trying to dig her heels into the smooth marble.

"Why? Numair, just stop!" She yelled at him, confused by his actions and he stopped suddenly at her outburst, turning angrily and backing her against the wall.

"No Daine, just no. Not _him_. Not _tonight._" She knew then that he was indeed drunk, as he stood so close to her, his eyes flashing with anger and hurt and something else she hadn't been able to place at the time, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. She had looked up at him, defiantly; he had _no_ right to order her, and he stared back down at her, unwavering. Suddenly, so sudden that she had had no time to react, he had pushed her completely against the wall, his body crushed against hers, and his lips were on hers, rough and demanding. That's how their first time had begun, a far cry from her gentle fantasies.

A wave of nausea rolled over Daine as she sat up slowly, extracting herself from Numair's arms. She turned back to make sure he was still asleep before sitting up fully and taking a deep breath in hopes the room would stop spinning. What should she do now? Stay or leave? She had, in all likelihood, been his drunken mistake. Did she really want to be around when he woke up and realized it? She looked again at his sleeping form and resisted the urge to brush her hand against his face, she couldn't bare to be there when that face awoke and realized what had transpired. Surely, he would see it as an indiscretion, something that should never have happened. She slowly began to feel more panicked and quickly rose, ignoring the spinning of the room, and set about finding her clothes. They were scattered throughout his rooms, in their haste they had been none to gentle as the tore them from one another, he badger claw had even been torn from her neck, even that had been too much of a barrier, and she leaned down the pick up the claw and broken leather thong from beside the bedside table before moving on to locate other articles of clothing. She would deal with it later, just not now, she _couldn't_ do it now. She couldn't submit herself to seeing the shame and revulsion on his face when he had realized he had bedded her. Once dressed she slipped out of the room as quietly as possible and returned to her own rooms, dreading seeing him next and hoping that the night had not ruined the relationship between the two.

She went through the day in a daze, through her headache and clouded perceptions she saw nothing but the night before. Images of the two of them together, desperately undressing one another and reaching out and holding on to one another so tight as though if they let go for even a fraction of a second it would all fall away. The way his lips had caressed her skin as her nails scratched down his back and his voice in her ear played over and over in her mind, never allowing her a moment's freedom from the memories that so pained and yet exhilarated her. The only time she was able to leave her ensnaring reverie was when she first saw him. She had been walking out of the mess hall after dinner, her headache and nausea finally having subsided, only to see Numair walking towards her. He never faltered in step as he neared her but she thought she saw a brief moment of hesitation and fear in his features for a moment but as he reached her it was quickly replaces with a smile.

"Daine, how are you?" There was something almost too pleasant about the smile and his eyes searched hers.

"I'm well, and you?" She cursed herself, it sounded so formal, but how was she too bring up what had transpired between them the previous night?

"Oh, fine, fine." He trailed off, looking confused at her behaviour, before continuing in a tone that made it obvious he was trying to push past the strangeness. "So how was your night Magelet? Have a good midsummer?" He flashed her a white smile and looked at her innocently, awaiting an answer, as she only stared back, shocked and confused, before it finally hit her. Gods and goddesses, _he doesn't remember_. The realization came down on her in such a crushing force that she found it hard to breath and her next words came out breathless as such.

"Yes, I did. It was quite nice." She tried to smile and blink back the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. At that moment, before another word could be said, Alanna came through the door behind Daine and greeted the two and Numair excused himself politely, claiming he was desperate for something to eat. Alanna looked at the retreating mage and then back at Daine before pulling the younger girl into a nearby room.

"Well, that was fair awkward for lovers." The lioness stated matter-of-factly, arms crossed, as she looked at Daine.

"What? We aren't" She trailed off, stunned, what did she know?

"Really? Because from the way you two left last night I could have sworn otherwise. So, nothing did happen then?" Alanna raised an eyebrow at her, disbelieving.

"You saw?" Panic began to rise in the young woman, how many others had seen? How long until he found out?

"Relax lass, I think I was the only one. I take it something did happen then." She paused. "You slept with him then?"

"Yes" Daine stated simply, not meeting Alanna's gaze.

"Well, then you'd best be talking to him girl, being awkward is no way to begin a relationship."

"There is no relationship Alanna" Her headache was returning and she sighed heavily, wanting to be anywhere but there in that moment.

"What do you mean" Daine cut her off.

"He doesn't remember." Alanna's mouth formed into a small 'o' and she looked at the girl, eyes full of pity before beginning to speak.

"Oh, Daine, I, hm, go and talk to him. I'm sure, I mean, maybe it will come back to him. If you want I can talk to him or, well" Daine cut her off again, angrily.

"No Alanna! Just leave it, look it was a mistake. A stupid drunken mistake, nothing more. Can't we just leave it and forget about it? It happened; it doesn't have to happen again. We were drunk, it didn't _mean _anything." Daine stared at the lioness, eyes glistening with tears though she refused to cry, who just nodded silently, shocked by the outburst. Daine turned and walked swiftly from the room. She lay in bed that night, too tired to cry or scream, simply remembering. Remembering everything that had brought her to this point, wondering if it was worth it; she closed her eyes, remembering the feel of his skin against hers and his voice in her ear, how it felt to be in his arms and thinking that she would give anything to be there again tonight.

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**So a lot more dialogue than normal and a bit different structure, hope it worked, Numair's will have more of the actual night...how the two sides fit together changes a bit in theis section too..anyway, REVIEW!**


	6. Midsummer: Numair

**Right, so to all those people who say I have a thing for torturing Numair, I am so sorry for this chapter...it's like..Numair torture to the absolute maximum...heh...anyway, enjoy, I hope it doesn't seem too rushed.**

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Numair stared down at the woman lying peacefully in his arms and closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. Even his raging headache could not stop him from taking the fullest of whatever enjoyment he could receive for this moment, for who knew how long it would last. He ran his fingers gently up Daine's arm, leaning his head back onto the pillow, and she shifted slightly, pressing more firmly into him and causing him to bite his lip as he felt her bare skin slide across his own. The sun had yet to rise and he hoped she would not wake for many more hours for when she did, he did not want to think about it. He could remember the night before with startling clarity, though it had taken a while for it to all come back to him upon first waking, and every touch, every whisper, every feeling had been replaying in his head since he had awoke to find her there with him, looking so much like she did in his dreams. Except in his dreams, he had never taken advantage of her. His stomach rolled at the thought and self-loathing overtook him. How could he have done that to her? Another part of his mind broke in saying that she had been willing enough, _more than willing_. Numair pushed this thought away, she would not have been near so willing if she had been sober, of that he was sure. How could she possibly want him? He was her friend, her teacher, comrade in arms but she could never see him as her lover. If she had been in any other state last night, this surely never would have happened, how would he face her when she awoke? How would he face himself?

He sighed, pulling her closer to him, and closed his eyes. In his minds eye he saw her, beneath him, as she arched back and called his name. He saw her as she had pushed him against his door after they had entered his room, running her hands through his hair as she kissed him hungrily. Vision after vision assaulted him. He remembered he had drunk far too much, the effects of the alcohol causing his steps to falter and his mind to cloud. He hadn't given it another thought when he saw the young man lean down to kiss Daine, he had simply walked over and pulled Daine away roughly, not caring who saw. He would not sit idly by and watch another man touch her, not _his_ Daine. For that night, she was his. He pulled her through the halls, intent on getting her to her room. In truth he had not been planning what had happened but with his inhibitions all but nonexistent he could not resist her while she they had stood so close, staring at each other angrily, in that deserted hall. He had given in, pushing against her and feeling her lips under his own as he had so wished, and yet so desperately hidden, for months. She had returned the kiss with desperation that rivalled his own and it was not long before they were headed towards his quarters, pulling one another into many a dark corner on the way to run their hands over each others bodies hungrily before returning to their journey. The crashed into his room noisily and he had barely time to close the door before she had pushed it up against it, pushing off his robes, and then her lips were on his neck kissing and biting, almost painfully, as he leaned his head back, moaning. His hands ran up and down her sides as he pulled her hips against his, causing her to gasp, and began walking her back towards the bed. Clothes had been shed violently, no care taken for the survival of the garments, and they soon came together on his bed, no time taken for further preliminary exploration, a tangle of desperation and desire. Each touch had lasted eternity, each whisper the most beautiful sound, each kiss making him more alive than he thought possible.

He felt her shift, morning light now sifting through the window, but he did not move or open his eyes. How would he face her? How would he explain to her what had happened, that he hadn't been planning this. He felt her sit up and yet he still could not bring himself to confront her. He felt her get up from the bed and listened as she gathered her clothes and left the room, the sound of the closing door reverberating through the sudden painful emptiness of the room. He knew now exactly her reaction, _horror_, what else could have caused her to leave so quickly? He rolled over, into the area that Daine had previously occupied, and breathed in her sent before putting his head in his hands feeling warm tears drip into his empty hands and onto the empty bed.

He went through the day not seeing or hearing anything but Daine. The only vision that played before his eyes was that of Daine beneath him, looking at him with pure undiluted desire, wanting him. Her lips, open as she breathed deep, as her eyes closed when he kissed down her neck and lower. The only sound he heard her whispered pleas to him, telling him she _needed_ him, saying his name as he never thought he would hear it, her voice as she shuddered against him, pulling him close. His thoughts consumed him, the day passing him by without him noticing, that is until he found himself walking towards her as she exited the mess hall. In that moment time slowed, painfully, so that he could hear the drumming of his heart in his ears and each step he took towards her reverberated through his body. She looked at him and a look of what he could only describe as fear crossed over her features. He felt a tightness in his chest, she _feared_ him. He stopped in front of her, his eyes searching her pale features. How was he supposed to do this? They needed to talk, but he was not sure if he had enough courage for this. He tried to smile, hoping to set her at ease a bit and decided that perhaps they should ease into it.

"Daine, how are you?" He tried to keep his smile in place, but found himself faltering.

"I'm well, and you?" He winced internally at the coldness of her words.

"Oh, fine, fine." He looked at her, confused, before realizing the intent behind her reactions. Her inability to look him in the eye, the way she fidgeted as if she wanted nothing more to leave. She was content to simply act as if it had never happened. Was that how it was to be? If it was her wish, then he had no choice to appease her. He felt himself choking over the words, every part of him screaming at him not to do it, but he responded anyway.

. "So how was your night Magelet? Have a good midsummer?" He tried to smile again, forcing himself to go along with the pretty clean little fiction instead of the reality of what lay between them. She looked surprised but after the moment the look was washed form her face and she smiled at him, no doubt glad that he had caught on.

"Yes, I did. It was quite nice." Numair could feel his restraint crumbling, he couldn't love this lie, they needed to talk but as he opened his mouth he saw Alanna approach them from behind Daine. He couldn't bear it any longer, and after polite greetings he excused himself from the conversation and retreated into the mess hall.

He stood in the mess hall for mere moments before sighing, frustrated, and turning around and walking back into the hall. He needed to talk to her. He needed to know what she was thinking, where they went from there. If there had been miscommunication, not that there had been any communication, he needed to have it fixed. He walked slowly down the hall, trying to think of where she could have gone and stopped as he heard two voices coming from a room down the hall, he stopped next to it and listened through he slightly opened door.

"You slept with him then?" The lioness's voice came. He clenched his fists, this was not her business.

"Yes." He heard Daine say, simply, in a final tone. He gritted his teeth; he shouldn't be listening to this. He had committed far too many sins when it came to this girl and he had no need to add further crimes to his list over her. He began to retreat from the doorway, quietly, but only made it halfway down the hall before his need to know overcame him and he returned to hear Daine speaking angrily.

"No Alanna! Just leave it, look it was a mistake. A stupid drunken mistake, nothing more. Can't we just leave it and forget about it? It happened; it doesn't have to happen again. We were drunk, it didn't _mean _anything." He staggered back from the door way and walked back to his rooms as quickly as possible. So it was as he thought, she simply wanted to pretend it didn't happen. He had thought it, but nothing prepared him for actually knowing it. He thought he had known pain, but nothing could prepare him for the sheer agony that filled him at her words. Her words played against his minds images of the night before. "_It was a mistake_." Daine arched against him, hands fisted in his hair. "_It doesn't have to happen again_." Her teeth scraped against his neck as he pinned her arms above her head. "_It didn't mean __**anything**_." Her panting and pulling him down to whisper hoarsely in his ear 'Numair, I need you, please'. He was nothing but her _mistake_, after all.

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**REVIEW! I read my stats..a lot...I know people are reading, so why not review too:P?**


	7. Six Weeks Later: Daine

**Ok, this one is a shift from the normal focus of the story so I hope you like it.**

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Daine sat on the outer wall of the palace looking out over the courtyards but seeing nothing. She had been sitting there for hours, staring blankly ahead unsure of what exactly she should feel. One thing was sure, how could she have been so stupid? How could she have been so blind? Since that night, that now seemed like a lifetime ago, she had foolishly ignored it. She had been _so_ blind not to see.

She remembered weeks ago, when it began. It began so slowly, the headaches, the fatigue and the nausea. She had assumed it was the flu, a simple conclusion. The thought had never even crossed her mind. The only thing that had crossed her mind for weeks was Numair, images of them together. She had held on to the memories as if they kept her alive. Every time she saw him she saw his eyes glazed with desire, every time he spoke to her she heard his voice whispering her name in need. Being with him always carried with it a strange current now. On the surface, everything was fine, nothing had changed, they acted normal; but for her there was always an undercurrent of longing and shared passion that she could feel humming through her very body whenever he was near. She feared that it would always be there, almost as much as she feared it would leave.

Her mind drifted over the events of three days ago. She had awoken for what seemed like the thousandth time to intense nausea and had run to her privy. Later as she leaned over the privy, gasping for air and trying to calm her shaking body, she ran a hand along the leather cord around her neck, smoothing her fingers over the keepsakes there. The problem was that the only thing there was the badger claw, no pregnancy charm. She looked down quickly, holding out the thong and found that the charm was definitely missing. She began searching her mind for when it could have gone missing, growing more frantic by the minute before remembering scenes of her and Numair undressing each other hurriedly, desperate to feel the other. As he had pulled up her dress quickly, and torn off her necklace, discarding it on the floor where she retrieved it the next morning, how _stupid _she had been. A hand went to her stomach as a new sense of panic overtook her, she was a midwifes daughter after all, she knew the signs. She suppressed a sob at how blind she had been to everything. She began counting days in her head and in her panicked state and with a final resignation realized that she could not remember when she had last had her monthlies. She could still remember the feeling as she laid her head down on the cold floor of the privy and sobbed.

She had spent that day and the next in a daze, wondering what to do. It was his, surely, there could be no one else considering the time range. What would she do? Memories of her life in Snowsdale flooded her mind; whispers of _bastard_ filled her ears, images of mothers pulling their children away from her. How could she subject her child to that? Especially here where the court tongues were as thick as knives and just as cruel, she would have to leave. She could pack her things and just leave, find a nice quiet village somewhere. She had quickly realized that she would never be able to do that. As hard as things got, she had finally found a home and to leave it so soon would crush her. She would stay; she would raise the child there. It may be hard but she would not bow her head in shame, she was her mother's daughter after all, she would not do Sara the dishonour of running away. She imagined that things would get harder when the child grew older, especially if it was a boy. She found herself wishing with all her heart that it would be a boy, one that looked like him with a bit of herself in there. People would begin to notice the resemblance, so would he. How would she explain? He didn't even know he had bedded her. How do you tell someone that you have had their child when they don't even know they were your lover for one short night? Would Numair be there for her? Should she tell him first? After? Ever? She decided that it was too early to be having those thoughts; there would be time enough later to decide. Besides, even if he would not be there she would have her child. Her piece of him, her piece of _them_; it was something that would keep her tied to him forever. At that, a small smile had spread over her features and she gently placed a hand on her stomach; it was something of theirs, only theirs, and maybe this wasn't such a bad thing. It was strange, feeling a sense of joy over something that shouldn't have happened but she did. It gave her something she never thought she would have again, in a way, it gave her Numair.

That morning she had awoken feeling more nauseous than normal and the feeling had persisted through the day despite her best efforts to ignore it. She had gone down to the stables to help with the trainees and had been startled when Numair had walked up behind her as she was tying up one of the ponies. He looked pale, as if he had been worrying about something.

"Good afternoon, how are we today?" He asked lightly, though his eyes held conern.

"Good and you?" She smiled up at him, leaning on a nearby post as she was, in fact, not feeling very well at all.

"Good, I just came down to see how you are; you've seemed a bit under the weather lately."

"Oh no, I'm fine, just a bit tired I guess." She waved it off with a brief turn or her hand before moving it to her forehead to wipe away beads of sweat that had begun to form. Numair kept speaking but she found herself unable to hear a word he was saying as a sudden violent fit of dizziness had overtaken her. He saw Numair expression turn frantic just before she blacked out.

She had come to briefly to see Alanna leaning over her in the healing wing with a concerned look on her face. She had tried to sit up but the lioness had pushed her back down gently as Daine felt another wave of dizziness overtake her.

"Relax young one, I'm going to see what's wrong with you, okay?" She said, gently and Daine grabbed on to her shoulder and pulled her down.

"I'm pregnant." She had whispered through tears that did not even have the time to form before she blacked out again.

She had awoken sometime later to see the sun setting outside her window. She turned over and sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

"How are you?" A hoarse voice asked from the corner. She looked over to see Numair, half hidden in the shadows of the room.

"Feeling better." The girl replied softly, looking out the window. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Numair do the same with an expression of great contemplation on his face.

"Daine?" She looked over and he sighed, slipping a hand into his pocket. Before he could speak however, Alanna entered the room, glancing at Numair quickly.

"Good, you're up" She said softly. Daine had felt a terror gripping her, was Alanna going to tell him? Was this how he was going to find out?

"Don't look so grim, you've only got the flu. It's been going around and it seems you pretty much just kept on overworking yourself. You're not going to get any better unless you rest when you are feeling ill you know."

"I, the flu?" Daine asked, dazed. She looked at Alanna intently in the eye and the Lioness had given a small nod back confirming that she was not just saying this because of the audience. Daine glanced over to Numair and he looked back at her quickly, as though being snapped out of a daze, and nodded at her, smiling, before getting up and making his way slowly from the room as the two women watching him go. Daine had sat in silence, there was no child, she would not have to go through this alone. She burst into tears, she had lost her last piece of him, and Alanna came quickly to her side.

"Daine, what is it? This is good?"

"I lost him again." The girl said through sobs as she leaned onto the older woman for support.

She had been so stupid, allowing herself to want it. She had been so stupid _to_ want it. She had been so foolish to overlook things, she should have remembered she had had her monthlies only a couple weeks ago but in her panic, in her want of him, she had overlooked even the most basic logic. She was allowing him to consume her, willing to take any fate if it gave her a piece of him, if it kept her connected to him. She lay her head on the smooth stone of the wall, where would she go now? How could she rid herself of this obsession without losing herself with it? Why was she so heartbroken over the loss of a child that never existed? She stayed seated there for many hours, watching the stars in the moonless sky and wondering if they were lonely without it.

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**Review please**


	8. Six Weeks Later: Numair

**Chapter 8, enjoy! Thanks so much to all the reviewers, especcialy Magda Jan Brown for all her support, it's really meant a lot!**

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Numair leaned back against a rock in the forest clearing, glancing over to the place where he and Daine had seen the undine so long ago. So much had changed since then, it was so much harder. With everything that happened he could feel the distance between then growing greater and he had no idea how to fix the gap. He could feel her falling from beneath him with every passing day and with each day it became harder to breath. He slipped his hand into his pocket and had a sharp intake of breath as his fingers brushed over the small object inside. _Overeager fool_, his mind hissed at him, _selfish_. He had been so quick to jump to conclusions, he never even asked her. He just barrelled in without thinking and wound up making a fool out of himself, even if no one knew it but himself. How selfish it was to be _disappointed_, how was he supposed to look at himself?

His mind flickered over the events of the past few days. He remembered returning to his rooms one night, three days ago. He had lit the candle next to his bed and when he backed away something caught his eye. Something reflected in the candle light, half hidden beneath the bedside table. He bent down to pick it up curiously, only to become confused when he brought the object fully into the light. _A pregnancy charm_, he sat on his bed, staring at it perplexed. Why on earth would there have been a pregnancy charm on his floor? Suddenly his mind flashed back to that night, as it did more often than he would ever admit, that night he would give anything to relive. He saw himself roughly tearing the clothes from Daine's body as she gasped and her hiss of breath as he snapped the cord of her necklace, discarding it on the floor. Realization hit him; he had thrown it aside before they had come together, she had not been protected. Was she pregnant? Was there a child, half him and half her? He searched his memories for signs that Daine may have been showing in the last weeks. He clenched his fists, he had noticed that she seemed paler lately, tired too, and he had gone to her rooms the week before to find her being sick to her stomach. She had said it was the flu, but what if it wasn't? Anger suddenly overtook him, if she was why hadn't she told him? She was a midwives daughter, she knew the signs. It was one thing to pretend that a night of accidental passion never happened, but to conceal this? Then again, how well would she be coping with it? The unwanted child of a man she never wanted. He stood up quickly, pacing around the room; it was possible that she wasn't. Still, deep in his mind he was convinced of it, all the signs were there. He sighed deeply, he would watch her for a few days, and perhaps she would tell him in her own time.

The following day he had spent his time watching Daine every time he found the chance. She seemed tired and distracted and at one point she had run from the dining hall and he had followed her to a privy down the hall, he was sure she had become sick again. All the signs were there, why was she not telling him? Did he not deserve to know? She was carrying his child, their child, and yet she said nothing. He was sure it was his, since that night, well since Karne really, he had paid such close attention to who she was around that he would have known if she had taken another lover. What was she planning to do? Raise a child on her own at court? He didn't even want to imagine the damage that the insipid gossip of court tongues could do to her and the child. Would it look like him, or her? He had seen images in his mind, one of a little girl and one of a little boy, each with black curly hair and her breathtaking blue eyes. He could not explain the sudden urge of longing he felt at those thoughts but in that instance, though it pained him to think it, he realized that with all his being he _wanted_ her to be pregnant. He wanted her to have his child, and only her. He longed to see her looking up at him, a baby in her arms that looked like the both of them. Was it wrong of him? Yes, a voice in his mind said, selfish. To want so badly for her to be carrying a child that she would not want, there was nothing more selfish, but he couldn't stop the small sense of happiness that fluttered in his chest at the thought. He knew what he would have to do now, what he wanted to do. He prayed to all the gods he could think of that things would work out; that he could find some happiness from what seemed like an endless road of lost hope.

Confirmation, he had thought, had come the next day. He had gone to visit her at the stables, searching for answers.

"Good afternoon, how are we today?" He was unable to keep the concern from his voice as her took in her appearance. She was so pale and looked so exhausted, she needed rest. Had she been worrying about the baby? It would make sense.

"Good and you?" She swayed slightly as she replied and leaned on a nearby post, a hand, seemingly unconscious, resting on her stomach. She must have known then.

"Good, I just came down to see how you are; you've seemed a bit under the weather lately." He tried to keep his eyes from her stomach, unsure of how to approach the subject. He couldn't just let her hide this; he had to be the one to bring it forward.

"Oh no, I'm fine, just a bit tired I guess." She waved him off, though she was breathing heavily, and wiped her forehead with her hand, her eyes fluttering.

"Daine, I know about" He trailed off when she had noticed that she was staring at him with unfocused eyes. "Daine? DAINE?" He reached out, panicked, and caught her as she fell into his arms in a dead feint. He picked her up, holding her firmly, and yelled to one of the stable hands to go find Alanna as quickly as possible. He shook as he carried her to the healing wing, shaking with fear for her and their unborn child. Why did everything have to happen like this?

Alanna had arrived in the healing ward at a sprint and ushered Numair out of the room immediately before beginning to examine Daine. He had waited outside the room until he heard hushed conversation from inside signalling that Daine was awake. He heard Alanna calming Daine and then what he had been waiting to hear for what seemed like forever, she was pregnant. She had known and she hadn't told him. He looked around the corner slowly to see Alanna, eyes closed in concentration, leaning over an again unconscious Daine. She may not have told him, but he knew and for once he had known exactly what to do about it. He walked quickly down the hall, away from the wing, with conviction.

It had taken him hours, combing the streets of Corus, to find the perfect one. He was worried that she may be awake by the time he returned, just slightly before sunset. He sat in the corner of her room, watching her sleep as the light from outside began to turn orange and cast shadows over her beautiful face. He felt his stomach knot, nerves overtaking him, and at the same time he had a strange sense of calm, of certainty. This was right, he knew that, it was the right thing to do, it's what he wanted. God's help him, he didn't know what he would do if she refused him. How would he be able to look at her anymore without shame? He was broken out of his reverie as she stirred and sat up slowly.

"How are you?" He asked, his voice cracking from the strain of the last few days.

"Feeling better." She wasn't looking at him, had she realized that he had found out?

"Daine?" He asked quietly, this was it, she looked over as him and he slipped a hand into his pocket, fingers wrapping around the object there. Before he could say another word however Alanna entered the room, glancing at him only briefly before turning to Daine.

"Good, you're up" She said to the younger woman. "Don't look so grim, you've only got the flu. It's been going around and it seems you pretty much just kept on overworking yourself. You're not going to get any better unless you rest when you are feeling ill you know." Numair froze, was Alanna simply trying to hide it from him?

"I, the flu?" Daine was looking up at Alanna in bewilderment and at Alanna's nod Numair knew it was true, there was no baby, no child, no family for him. He began to shake, why? Why couldn't he just be given this? He snapped to attention when he felt Daine's gaze on him and forced a smile at her, hoping she would not see through it, before leaving the room. He couldn't bear to sit there and watch the look of relief that must be covering her face now. He couldn't sit there and smile and make polite jokes with her, not tonight.

Now, as he lay beneath the stars, he pulled the ring from his pocket, turning it between his fingers. It was beautiful, it should have been hers. She should have been his. He clutched his fist around the ring, bringing it to his lips. He had been so close, so close. He could still see the figments that had danced before his eyes these last few days, her as his wife, smiling at him as she held their baby and, he cringed that he had allowed himself to go this far, maybe even in the future, more children, her love. Fr now he had been content to love her knowing that if she accepted it would be out of convenience, out of protection for her unborn baby, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, she could have learned to love him too. Now he would never know. He leaned over, lips still against the ring, the token of a world lost, and sobbed.

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**review please! (Anybody else notice that every single chapter is getting longer? I don't even mean to do it that way, it just happens)**


	9. Scanran War: Daine

**This chapter was very very hard to write, which is why it took so long. By the way..in my head the soundtrack to it is 'Set Free' by Katie Gray. Just a random fact for no reason.**

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Daine felt the wind sift through her hair in the predawn air as she road along the coast and thought of how nothing was ever to stay the same. The place and the time in which she lived would never allow it and she sometimes feared that she would never stop fighting. War can be a funny thing. It's harsh, it's unrelenting and it can destroy lives in moments. There is no true glory in war, no romance in death; war is a destroyer. It's all fire and cruelty and, yet, sometimes something so dark and so twisted can bring with it a small kindness. Daine remembered the news, war with Scanra was inevitable. They were to fight again, against new weapons and dangers that they had not the slightest clue as to how to defeat. This time, however, she would not be going with Numair. She was old enough now, independent enough, strong enough to go out on her own. They were needed in different places and so, by order of their monarch, they would go. He was to leave earlier than her, by at least a week, and Daine didn't know how to approach him, knowing it may be the last time she saw him. Before they had always been together, they travelled together, fought together and would have died together, that was the way of it.

There had been a flurry of secret meetings and war councils. Numair was to be sent to the City of the Gods to meet with the masters there, in hopes to develop ways in which to outsmart their opponents and wait at the border there until further instructions were given. Daine would be based in the Grimhold Mountains and would spend the duration of the war spying in Scanra. It would be months of living on her own, mostly in animal form, in enemy territory. From the looks she saw when she was given when she received her orders; it was likely she would not survive.

She had done her best to avoid Numair in those days. It was fairly easy, with all the preparations it was easy to find some excuse but she was afraid to be alone with him, afraid to see him knowing it may be the last time, knowing she would never hold him again. The day before he left he had approached her, wanting to talk to her, to say goodbye and she had just blown him off. She had said she had too many things to do and had walked away, trying not to let it show that she knew how much she had hut him. She had gone back to her room and sobbed; hating what she was doing and not knowing how to fix it. She couldn't look at him, not after everything that had happened and knowing there may never be a chance to fix it. For months there had been a distance between them that seemed to keep growing and she feared was becoming irrevocable. Despite everything she had gone through, everything she had done to herself, where is concerned Numair there was nothing that amounted to losing your best friend. He could be standing next to her and yet seem so far away she feared that if she reached out her hand would meet nothing. She had finally pulled herself from her room, deciding she looked presentable, and gone to dinner; secretly hoping to see Numair there. Despite how much it hurt her to see him it was worse knowing she had hurt him.

She had taken a longer way to the mess hall than usual, thinking things over. She would apologize and say goodbye, it was the least she owed him. Trembling at the thought she decided that when she said goodbye, when she said goodbye she would tell him she loved him. If it truly was goodbye she needed him to know. If she died, at least she would have no true regrets. If he rejected her, well, at least she would know. If he died, she had stopped her thinking there; that simply wasn't an option. May the black god take her but never him; he was the one thing in this life she would not let go. She breathed deep as thunder began to roll overhead. Her mind made up she had entered the dining hall, quickly noting that Numair was not there. She had gotten her food and sat next to Onua who was looking as worn out as everyone else.

"How're you holding up?" The K'mir asked the girl softly and Daine shrugged in response and Onua sighed, seeming concerned. "I hope Numair's alright; this storm came about without much warning." Daine's head shot up at this, confused at her words.

"But he isn't leaving until tomorrow morning" Onua looked at the girl, surprised.

"Oh, Daine, you didn't know?" The woman looked confused and sad "He left about an hour ago, wouldn't tell anyone why. He didn't tell you?" Daine jumped up as thunder crashed ahead and the wind began to pick up and sprinted from the hall.

Outside the wind nearly blew Daine off balance but thankfully there was no rain as of yet. Knowing that the wind was too strong to fly Daine extended her magical reach to find the fasted horse she could. Soon she was mounted and was galloping ahead, searching the minds of the people to see how far he had gotten. All she knew was that she had to reach him; she had to be with him at least one last time. It had taken about an hour of full out galloping before she felt Spots presence clearly over the next rise. Realizing the horse was close to collapsing she stopped him and dismounted, sprinting up the hill. Soon she saw Numair at the top, standing and looking into the distance. She shouted his name as loud as she could but the wind blew her voice away. She could feel Spots nervousness as the storm continued to churn and quickly reached out with her magic, calming the gelding. She continued up the hill, stopping about ten feet from the mage and shouted his name again, her clothes sticking to her body from exertion. Numair turned quickly and stared at her with an expression of shock.

"Numair I-" She was cut off however when he strode towards her and swept her up in his arms, his lips meeting hers harshly. Daine had thrown her hands around his neck and returned the kiss. Almost immediately however things had changed. His kisses had become soft and slow; his grip gentle. Daine knew then that all her fantasies of what it would be like to truly be his were true. He had laid her on the grass and placed a shield around them, protecting them from the maelstrom outside, before he slowly undressed her and made love to her until the storm passed.

Daine had lain in his arms, their breathing the only thing disturbing the now too still air. Was it possible for there to be calm _after_ the storm? Numair held her close and she felt him tilt his head towards hers, his hand gently moving her face and forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"I love you" He said softly, too many emotions held in his eyes to count. Love, possession and joy were all present but so was sorrow and fear.

"I love you too" She bent forward and kissed him softly, her eyes over bright. Few other words had been exchanged that night, few others were needed. In the morning Numair had gone his way and Daine had gone back to the palace. He had promised to return to her but she knew that was something she couldn't count on.

She had left soon after that and spent more months than she cared to think about on her own. It had become clear very soon that the war was to last far longer than it should have. Years longer, she had spent these years rarely receiving news from Numair and seeing him even less. The few times they ended up in the same place they had stole away and spent every small portion of time available to them together. On those cold nights in Scanra she would curl up into herself and think of those nights when Numair would hold her close and the feel of his skin against her own. It was the only thing that got her through those months; it was what made her fight. She knew the terror she felt at the thought of his death and she vowed not to make him go through that kind of pain. She would return to him again and again as long as he wanted her. The way he held her and the way he looked at her gave her hope that there was more to this life than the endless fighting. Sometimes now she wondered why she had feared him knowing. On the first night they had been reunited they had lain together and stayed up late into the night talking about things that had happened. She knew she had hid things from him during that conversation and she knew he had as well but it was all in the past now and all that mattered was that they were together at last and nothing else could touch them.

The last time they had met had been at his tower. They had both ended up there in passing, completely by chance. They had spent the night together and Daine could still remember the way he had smelled and the look in his eyes that night. As she lay in the circle of his arms he had pulled her close and slipped his hand into hers.

"Daine" He whispered; his voice soft and almost pleading. No, not pleading but asking. Daine felt a small circle of metal in her hand as he pulled his hand away and looked down, her mouth open in shock as she saw the ring glinting in the candlelight as she turned it in her hand. There was a moment of silence before she slowly pushed it back into his hand, trying not to look at the pain in his eyes when she did so.

"Not now" She said softly, looking him in the eye and he nodded slowly. She hoped he understood her reasons.

She left before dawn and mounted Cloud. She rode a short ways from the tower before turning back to see Numair watching her from one of the windows.  
"I'll be back" She whispered, wishing the wind to carry her words to him. She turned away from him and breathed in deep as the predawn wind played with her hair. She would return someday and be able to stay. When that happened, when she could truly be with him for more than a stolen night amidst an endless sea of death, then she would say yes but until then all she could do was keep moving, keep fighting for them.

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**Review please! Sorry to say only one mroe chapter after this....so get your reviews in why you can! ;)**


	10. Scanran War: Numair

**Hehehe, I actually forgot I hadn't finished this. My bad. Anyway, voila! Final chapter!**

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War was a funny thing he thought as he stood in front of the window, looking out at the land below. How many times had he been forced, tricked, asked, and allowed to go into battle? There were too many to count. Suddenly though, it was so much different. The maelstrom of war was never quite as frightening as it was then when he was faced with the prospect of not having her by his side. The war with Scanra had been inevitable, everyone could see it coming. He knew it would come to blows but he had assumed, stupidly, that he would have her by his side and in that it was not nearly as frightening. The only thing more terrifying than the thought of being without her in the coming weeks, months, years – lifetime – was when he had witnessed her orders being issued. Stake out the Scanran border, survive in the wilderness and do it all alone. The images that flashed before his eyes were horrifying. Her alone in the unforgiving Scanran mountains, nights passing without human contact; her death, alone and unheard with no one to help her; it was true that she was capable, a demigoddess, but she was not indestructible.

The truth was he had always assumed that he would be there for her death, unconsciously at least. That was because he had always believed that they would die together. Live together, fight together, die together; and love together a voice whispered in the back of his mind, though that option was one he knew was much to far from his grasp. He had to chastise himself for those thoughts; they hadn't been doing much of anything together for months. There was a chasm between them and it just kept filling up with everything they didn't, wouldn't, say to each other. At times he feared that she was little more than a memory to him now, all abstract and untouchable. Not the swiftly fading kind though, the taunting kind. The kind of memory that was always just around the corner, always waiting to spring on you and keep you form your sleep. There was nothing he could do, what kind of time was there left? He left a week before her, easily, and that could be any day.

He had looked across to the room to her during the last meeting, where she had received her orders, no, her death sentence. She looked to the floor, resigned, her jaw set tightly and her eyes hard. Those around her had the faces of mourners; it might as well have been her funeral. The people began filing out and he had tried to catch up with her but he had been blocked by others and she had left the room in strides that rivalled his own. He had tried many other times to find her, to see her, talk to her, _love her_ but she was either always just out of grasp or he lost his nerve at the last moment and turned heel. He knew he needed to see her though, say goodbye; it could be his last chance. As the days wore on he became stronger in his resolve to tell her everything, if this was truly his last chance he could not, would not, let it pass him by. How could he? He would be a traitor to his own self. How would he be able to leave without her knowing, even if she rejected him. She could die, it was very likely she would, in some snowy mountain, miles from anywhere and he wouldn't be there, he would never know what had happened to her. He would never know the misery she had suffered, the black god take him before he suffer that ignorance.

He finally caught her the day before his departure. His heart was beating so fast he feared it may not be strong enough as he walked towards her. She looked pale and drawn, hints of dark circles forming around her eyes. She looked up at him and instead of the old smile, the one just for him, there was panic in her eyes; _fear_. She had made it perfectly clear that she wanted none of what he offered, she wanted nothing of him. She had smiled at him, trying to pass it off, but it had been a cruel mockery of her former smile. She stumbled over something about having things to do and moved away from him, forever. He had stood there and watched her retreat down the corridor; unwilling to move until she was out of site because he knew that it may be the last image of her he would ever have. Despite the agony of the moment, it would be all he would have left in the coming, well, maybe eternity and it was better than nothing.

When she had gone he had turned and swiftly strode back to his room, his mind swiftly forming new plans. He was single minded, enraged, terrified, and devastated. His magic crackled around him, lashing out at figments of better times as he grabbed clothes and items from his room and stuffed them into riding bags. He had nothing left here; he might as well leave that night. The last thing he placed in the bags was the wring, the cursed blessed ring. It would always belong to her whether she accepted it or not. He blew out the candles and left, making fast time to the stabled. Running into Onua he had put on a smile, suppressed his magic, and said his farewells, insisting that it was best for him to leave early. Onua had seemed convinced enough, though she had far too much on her own mind to be considering his. He had mounted Spots, praying that the gelding would not give away his departure to Daine though he wasn't sure she would do anything, and galloped out of the stables.

Half an hour into the ride Numair had realized his mistake. The clouds above him were dark and swirling, a mass of rage and turbulence. He was not sure if it was his own overflowing power or just natures empathy but either way it was not where anyone would want to be at that moment. Thunder rumbled threateningly and he brought his gelding to a halt and looked behind him. After merely a moments thought he shook his head violently, there was no turning back now. He pushed through the storm for what must have been another half hour or so before finally coming to rest at the top of a hill, underneath the cover of a tree. The storm was beginning to vent its fury now and he stood there, wondering how to proceed. He began shivering and the rain lashed at him and in that moment all he could think was that he needed Daine; if she had been there with him he would be alright, he wouldn't be afraid.

Suddenly he heard a voice and turned, violently, to see Daine standing almost right behind him, her clothes clinging to her body and her hair latching on to her face; a face that looked so desperate in the darkness.

"Numair, I-" She started to speak but he had strode forward, any care of repercussion fleeing his mind, and captured her lips with his own. His mouth mirrored the rage of the storm and the desperation of her face as he brought her to him and suddenly all the rage, all the fury and all the desperation vanished. He could no longer hear the storm, only her. Her heartbeat, her breath, the feel of her hands in his hair and her lips against his own as she _kissed him back_. He softened his kiss then and placed a shield around them and their mounts, protecting her; perhaps for the last time. He had laid her on the ground, atop a blanket he pulled from Spots bag in a fleeting moment of coherency. There, beneath the fury of the earth he had made love to her like he had to no woman before, and he had had plenty of those. Perfection did not come close to describing their union; there was nothing on the earth nor in the realms of the gods themselves that held such beauty, such purity or such rebirth as that single night. He had left in the morning, few words had been exchanged but they were unneeded.

The months that followed were hell. Each day he wondered if she was alive, if she was alright, where she was; with each day he saw more fighting, more death, more horror and each day he prayed that she should be spared. They saw each other fleetingly, like ships passing in the night. Those nights were spent in dark corners and hushed bedrooms as they got to know each other like never before, as they told each other silently of their love and as they apologized to each other for their sins with actions. They spoke of their situation only once, in depth anyway, the first time they were reunited but to be honest there was little that really _needed_ to be said. When he was alone in her absence he would replay that moment where they had first exchanged vows of love, hoping that if everything should break that knowing that would be enough.

The last time he had seen her they had met by chance when they crossed paths at his tower. There, in the chilled seaside sanctuary he had held her in his arms and wished for the entire world that that was all there was to life; just that moment, he needed nothing else. He had taken the ring, her ring, from the bedside table and spoken to her.

"Daine" He held his breath and felt her do the same as she ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the promise. He felt his heart tremble when she pushed it away but suddenly she had looked up into his eyes and he knew that she wasn't rejecting him. She simply would not make a promise that she couldn't keep and his heart broke a little more when he realized that she believed that it was a promise that she may not be able to keep, though not for reasons of her own. Nevertheless there was promise in her eyes, a promise of wars end and a new life's beginning.

She rode away that night as he watched her from his window, his palm pressed flush against the chilly glass. She looked back at him, just for a moment, and suddenly he knew he didn't have to worry, this was not the last time they would meet. They would fight for now, witness death and cause it, but soon, when the smoke cleared, they would meet again and the promise of a new life would begin.

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**C'est fini! Tell me what you think, I'd love some feedback :)**


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